


Dragonslayer

by Flynne



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Max Trevelyan has heart eyes, Older Woman/Younger Man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:48:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21865492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flynne/pseuds/Flynne
Summary: Short ficlet after the defeat of Corypheus. Cassandra lives up to the Pentaghast legacy.
Relationships: Cassandra Pentaghast/Male Trevelyan, Male Inquisitor/Cassandra Pentaghast
Kudos: 23





	Dragonslayer

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Fictober 2019. No particular prompt, just something I wanted to write anyway. Because during Max’s final fight with Corypheus, no matter how much damage he did to the dragon, he is still a relatively squishy mage ranged fighter and it was definitely Cassandra Descended-From-A-Line-Of-Dragonslayers Pentaghast who was up in the dragon’s face and dealt the killing blow.

It takes a good ten seconds before Max can see again. Blinking the flare of poison-green fade light from his eyes, he scrambles to his hands and knees, nearly slamming his face back into the ground as his left arm buckles beneath him. He just manages to catch himself, pushing back to land on his backside as he rubs his watering eyes with the back of his hand. 

The ground is scorched and blackened where Corypheus once knelt, tendrils of evil-smelling smoke dissipating into the darkened sky. Max stares, mouth hanging open, then tilts his head back and looks up, up…

…The breach is gone.

“Inquisitor! Are you alive?” 

Cassandra’s voice galvanizes him and he staggers to his feet, leaving the smear of greasy ash that once was Corypheus behind. His left hand feels hot, firey threads skittering up and down his arm like a misfired lightning spell. The sensation is fading, though, so he ignores it, tucking his arm against his body and leaning on his staff to propel himself forward.

Cassandra’s whole body slumps in relief when he comes into view. Max makes it down the stairs without falling on his face, and even though they’re surrounded by their friends and soldiers, he heads right for her. She starts to smile, but stiffens in surprise when he doesn’t stop walking. 

“Max!” She halts when he collides with her, jostling him as she tries and fails to catch his staff when he drops it. “Are you all right?” 

“Just fine,” he says, voice muffled with his face smushed against her shoulder. He hugs her and nudges closer.

Cassandra pushes at him halfheartedly. “What are you _doing?_ I am covered in dragon guts!”

He laughs. “I know. You smell awful.” He lifts his head to smile at her. “Pentaghast the dragon-slayer. You were marvelous.”

She brushes at the streaks of dragon blood that had transferred from her armor to his face, but only succeeds in smearing them across his cheek with her glove. The sight makes her laugh, and she breaks into a smile. “So were you.” 

Behind them, someone shouts out that the breach is gone. A nearby soldier cheers, her cry quickly joined by others, spreading out in ripples down the mountain as word of Corypheus’ defeat spreads. Cassandra tilts his chin up with her fingertips and kisses him. Someone - probably Varric - whistles loudly, but for once she ignores it. Max sighs against her mouth and closes his eyes, letting her take his weight and hold him up. When she breaks the kiss she stays close, resting her forehead against his. Max smiles and murmurs just loud enough to be heard over the cheering, “Dragonslayer.” 

Cassandra laughs and kisses him again. “I could get used to that.”


End file.
